


Jesse Pinkman at Mr White's feet.

by Tasta



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:58:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8572267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasta/pseuds/Tasta





	

And so Mr White was lying on the sofa, eyes closed, exhausted. And Jesse. Poor Jesse whose life had been almost destroyed many times since he had met this man and also saved by this man. This man who he had called ‘Bitch’ and tried to leave and been scorned by and spurned by and rescued from a drug suicide den. On whose chest he had cried. This man who lifted his heart when he saw him or heard his voice. This strong, brilliant man. Jesse wanted to.. please him. Somehow. This man who he called ‘Bitch’ or Mr. White, but never Walter. Walt. No. It would stick in his throat.  
Jesse knelt at the foot of the sofa and took Mr. White’s foot in his hands. He pressed with his finger tips along the sides and the soles. He found a patch that felt hot and hard and he kneeded harder. Walter grunted in pain and opened his eyes.  
“It’s ok Mr. White. You’ve got some tension there. And some toxins. This will hurt a bit but this’ll get rid of it. You’ll feel a lot better. I promise.”  
Walter lay back and put his arm over his eyes. He was too tired to resist anything any more.  
Jesse carried on more cautiously. Gently easing into the tense hot spots, feeling them release. He watched his hands and Mr. White’s foot with great concentration. He pulled gently on each toe.   
He was getting breathless. His heart was beating faster. He wanted to.. do more. He rested his forehead against Mr. White’s foot, then his cheek. It was a big strong clean foot. Thick slightly yellow toe nails. Experienced feet. He brought the toes to his lips. Kissed them tenderly. Glanced up at last. Mr. White was still. He opened his mouth and slipped it round Mr. White’s big toe. Closed his eyes and tightened his mouth and sucked.   
It was disgusting yo? Him, fresh faced young dude, killer with the ladies, sitting on his heels, sucking this old dude’s toes and… liking it. He was disgusting. He didn’t want Mr. White to stop him. If he could just sit and suck he would… but he also wanted Mr. White to wake up and slap him down and stand over him and put his foot on his face or in his crotch. To crush him. To end everything. To crush him like a beetle.  
“Jesse. What are you doing?”  
Mr. White withdrew his foot, carefully, and swung his legs over the side of the couch and sat up.  
Jesse stayed kneeling, embarrassing tears filling his eyes.

Walter looked at him and marveled at how untouched Jesse looked by the beatings and the loss. How his skin was still clear. His eyes still that very extraordinary blue.   
“You know I told Jane’s Father you were my nephew. That’s how I feel about you. I care about you and I want to help you.”  
Jesse waited kneeling till Mr. White gave him permission to move and patted the seat beside him. He sat on the couch next to him. He leaned in and Mr. White put his arm round him. He closed his eyes.  
Walter ruffled his hair. Jesse moaned, “Oh that’s nice.”  
Walter felt pleased. No one else wanted him to touch them. They were scared or angry. He carried on moving his fingers in Jesse’s light brown hair. If felt soft and made him think of baby sparrow down.   
He felt something against his trousers. It was Jesse’s hand, resting there. Pale and young with its tattoo on the back of the wrist and arm.   
He took the pale hand and moved it away. With surprising firmness Jesse took Walter’s hand and placed it on his own crotch. Inside his baggy trousers Jesse was hard as a baton.   
“Help me Mr. White.”


End file.
